Zim&Dib: Private Eye
by namelessDrifter
Summary: Dib gives up his dreams of being a paranormal investigator for the next best thing: a PRIVATE investigator. Zim wants to leave earth, but due to weird space immigration laws, needs a neutral alien to do so. The only logical solution is for Zim and Dib to become private detectives... IN SPACE. basically a buddy cop (IN SPACE) au. ace zadr, can be read as zadf if that's yer thing.
1. Prologue

_i had to get this out of my brain so i could focus on other works. it was sitting there. taking up space. sooo much head space. i needed buddy cops IN SPACE like a dying man needs water. _

**_Warnings:_**_ despite my status as a pretend internet cop, i have limited knowledge on actual detective work. but this is in space, so its ok. _

**_Pairings:_**_ ace zadr. so it can be read as zadf. but asexual erasure is lame, so you should probs only do that if zadr is ur notp to end all notps. _

_this is on a non-priority update schedule, cause it's my let off steam and make lame police jokes fic. alright, enough of this._

* * *

It had been a while since Zim had contact from the tallest- and he was perfectly ok with that. He wasn't stupid- he had known for a while that he was banished. He just didn't actually care. _Anything_ was better than Foodcourtia, even exile to the uncharted parts of the galaxy. For a while he put on a good show, mostly because even though he logically _knew_ he was banished, he didn't exactly want to _admit_ it, even to himself.

After several years on Earth, the four-foot, nine-inch alien finally realized that he would be spending the rest of his days on this planet. Or at least, in this part of the galaxy. Theoretically he _could_ head out into space, get a job, and make a living off this wretched hell hole. Irken's weren't _unheard of _in this part of the galaxy, and it was one of the few places they could get respectable jobs outside of the empire.

_There's just one problem_, Zim realized. Because of the volatile nature of solo Irkens exiled from the empire, galactic law in this part of the universe mandated that they have an alien partner to keep them stable. It didn't matter if the exile was self-imposed or not. People just didn't trust solo Irkens. And with good reason, as solo Irkens were usually invaders. But an Irken working with a _non-Irken_, now that was someone people could trust. Irkens were fiercely loyal, and if an Irken chose to partner with an alien rather than go it alone away from the empire, then that was proof enough of their trustworthiness.

If Zim wanted off this planet and back into the Universal Alliance outside the Irken Empire, then he would have to choose one of these _Earth Scum_ to take with him. He shuddered at the thought.

Zim supposed, _in theory_ he could live out the rest of his days on Earth. But it would just be _so boring_. Earth was like, the boonies of the universe. It was halfway between the outskirts of the Irken Empire and the Universal Alliance, and both nations were constantly expanding _away_ from Earth and consequently each other. The Universal Alliance and the Irken Empire had a sort of unspoken agreement to not bother with each other. Because of this, it meant that no matter how long Zim waited, Earth would _never_ be more than some backwoods planet in the middle of nowhere.

In that moment, Zim knew there was no way he would be stuck here for the ends of his days. There had to be _at least one_ native he could tolerate in the vastness of space! Surely! Someone who would also go with him willingly. Zim shrugged. He would have to figure it out another day- if he spent much longer contemplating his options in his lab, then he would be late for skool.

Zim _loved_ 12th grade. Even if he was made fun of by his peers for being the shortest in his class, he could still lord his power over underclassmen. That was one good thing about Earth- status came from experience, not height, which put Zim far above everyone else, even if they didn't realize it. And the best part was now he only had a month until he was done with this infernal educational facility.

"Hello, _Dib,"_ Zim greeted sharply as he walked into their first period forensics class. For whatever reason, the teacher thought it'd be a great idea to assign Zim and Dib as lab partners. Zim wasn't even sure _why_ he took this class. Oh wait, yes he was. It was to annoy Dib.

"_Zim,_" Dib replied, just as venomously. Dib had given up trying to oust Zim as an alien around the same time Zim stopped making serious take over the world plans, around the same time they started Hi-Skool. That didn't mean there wasn't any less animosity shared between them, however.

"Are you prepared for today's test, Dib-worm?" Zim asked conversationally.

Dib rolled his eyes, "Of course I am, Zim. Are _you?"_

Zim waved him off, "Yes yes, Zim downloaded the information yesterday."

Dib rolled his eyes. Zim always did _horribly_ in class, but aced his tests because he always managed to store the required information in his PAK the night before. It was like cramming before a test, only more efficient, and less work. Early in their Hi-Skool career, Zim's teachers accused him of cheating, and made him take his tests in isolation for a while, but when Zim proved to perform just as well, they let it drop, mentally filing it under the anomaly that was Zim.

After his first year in Hi-Skool, Dib decided that if he was going to disappoint his father by not perusing REAL SCIENCE, he would at least do it in a constructive way- paranormal investigation didn't exactly have many high paying jobs, but _criminal investigation,_ on the other hand, had many prospects. He was very pleased to learn that his Hi-Skool offered a criminal investigation track, which he eagerly signed up for. He was already interning at the local police station, and with some startup money from his dad (who was just glad Dib had stopped acting crazy) he could easily have his own private investigation business up and running by this time next year.

Zim, on the other hand, just wanted to be in as many of Dib's classes as possible, just to have every opportunity to annoy the boy. Once or twice, the principle tried to make sure Zim and Dib had _no_ classes together. They constantly argued, and distracted the class. Zim would have none of that, though, so he hacked the Skool's database to rectify her mistake. After noticing the boy's schedules had been changed to match, the principle merely sighed in exasperation and let the matter drop.

Their forensics teacher announced that the test would be starting shortly, so Zim and Dib cleared off their shared work table and waited patiently for Mr. Spoopy to pass out their test papers.

From there, it was a race to see who could complete the test first. Zim and Dib turned _everything_ into a competition, to the point where their peers simply ignored it. They were just _The Short Green Kid and His Tall Best Friend_, or Zimanddib. Never one without the other, as far as their classmates were concerned.

Every year, underclassmen were warned, _don't intervene with Zimanddib._ Whenever the boy's got into a fist fight, or an argument, other students would roll their eyes and mutter, _there goes Zimanddib again._

Whether intentional or not, Zim and Dib did _everything_ together. They were tied for valedictorian, they had the same grades in all of their classes, and they were evenly matched in every fight and altercation. A while ago, Zim and Dib stopped existing as separate entities on school grounds and became the infamous trouble making duo.

Outside school was the only time their lives were independent. Dib had his police station internship, and Zim had his labs at his base, where lately he was looking into job openings in the Universal Alliance so he would be ready once he found someone tolerable to take along as his partner.

It was one week after the forensics test that Zim realized the answer to his problems had been staring him in the face all along. Dib was absent. For the first time in four years, Dib was not at school, and Zim was alone.

It never occurred to Zim how much time he spent with the human- just that he did it. There seemed to be a hush over the entire student body as Zim walked the halls alone. Sure, Zim had missed school plenty of times, so everyone knew that Dib existed without Zim. But they had never seen _Zim_ without Dib. Even outside of school, where there was Zim, Dib was not far behind, but the inverse wasn't always true.

Zim heard the whispered rumors. _Did they break up?_ One girl asked. Her friend replied by punching her in the arm with a _They weren't dating, idiot._ Zim glared in their direction, which quickly caused the squirrely freshman and her friend to shut up. No one but Dib had ever been on the receiving end of Zim's glassy eyed stare, and no one really cared to.

"How _dare_ he," Zim muttered during lunch, where he sat alone in the courtyard, no Dib on standby to exchange punches or jibes with. "Leave _Zim_ alone!" Zim huffed, shoving bits of sandwich angrily into his mouth. "With these-" Zim growled and yanked on the sides of his wig in frustration, "_imbeciles!" _

As much as Zim _hated_ Dib, he was at least _tolerable_. At least Dib was _worth_ something. He could hold his own against Zim, but these _inferior humans_ backed down at the slightest glance from the shorter boy.

That was when Zim was struck by a sudden epiphany. Dib _was_ worth something. He was _tolerable_ to Zim and that in and of itself made Dib more valuable than the entire human race combined. Zim's thoughts drifted back to the Universal Alliance's laws requiring a lone Irken to be accompanied by an alien partner. It would be _so easy_ to convince Dib to come with him. He _knew_ the idiot had a thing for space, and Zim knew from his research that private investigators were in short supply. As much as it pained Zim to admit it, Dib _was_ good at PI work, paranormal or otherwise.

Zim grinned to himself, and began to cackle, plan in place. The other students stepped away slightly, even the ones that were all the way across the courtyard. Zim laughing like that usually meant bad news for Dib, who was, unfortunately, nowhere in sight.

From then until graduation Zim was strangely quiet. Aside from lightly reprimanding Dib for _daring _to catch a cold, there were no grand schemes, no talk of becoming a supreme dictator, nothing. It unnerved Dib quite a bit.

"Are you ok?" Dib asked once during lunch.

"Zim is _fine,"_ Zim casually replied. "Don't worry your big head about it."

Zim's relaxed attitude only made him more concerned. His paranoia kicked into overdrive for the next few weeks leading up to graduation. He double checked the cameras stashed in Zim's house, tightened his home security system, and never turned his back to Zim during the school day. But he couldn't pinpoint anything out of the ordinary, other than the fact that Zim was being… much more _congenial_ than usual. Alarmingly so.

Graduation finally came. Dib was straightening out his cap and gown in the dressing room when Zim casually sat on the counter beside the mirror.

"Sooo," Zim began, examining his gloved nails.

Dib raised an eyebrow over his glasses. Zim continued, "What is it you want to do after all this, ehh Dib-worm?"

Dib rolled his eyes. Zim _knew_ and Dib knew that Zim knew so there was no reason for his enemy to be asking. He responded anyway. "I'm opening a private investigation company," he said. "But you knew that, Zim."

"Yes, yes, Zim did," he smiled sinisterly at the human. "Zim just wanted to make sure."

Dib scoffed, and cocked his head at Zim, "Why?" he asked.

Zim shrugged. "I have my reasons," he replied cryptically.

The graduation ceremony was long. To the surprise of no one, Zimanddib's valedictorian speech quickly devolved into them grappling for the microphone for 10 minutes before the class president cut in about how great their Skool was and how sad it was to be leaving.

Zim and Dib somehow ended up walking from the building where graduation was held to their respective homes. Dib's dad was too busy to be there in person, and Zim had no parents to drive him. Besides, it wasn't as if it was an unusual arrangement both Zim and Dib lived by the old adage about keeping your friends close and enemy's closer. Sometimes they took it a bit too literally, as when walking together they often ended up shoulder to shoulder. Or rather, shoulder to forearm, considering their height differences.

When they were about half way back to their neighborhood, Zim took a deep breath, and looked up at Dib. "Dib," he said, "I have a proposition for you."

Dib stopped dead in his tracks. "What?" he asked. _Proposition?_ He had no idea what Zim could possibly mean by that.

"You want to be a PI, yes?" Zim said.

Dib groaned. "We've been over this Zim…"

Zim just laughed. "What if I told you, you could do that, right now. No waiting for licenses, or paperwork to be done." The alien grinned up at Dib's contemplative face. Dib was interested. That meant he had him.

What could Zim possibly be offering? Dib knew that it would take at least a year, probably more, to make sure he was certified and get his practice up and running. Being the son of the world's most beloved man allowed him to take some shortcuts, but not near as many as Zim was implying. It had to be some sort of a trap.

Dib hesitated. "What's the catch?" he asked skeptically.

Zim grabbed Dib's coat sleeve and began pulling him along. "Come to my base, Dib," he said. "Zim will explain all."

And explain all Zim did.

"So you're telling me," Dib started from his position on the couch, "that the whole time you've been here, it was because you were in _exile?"_

Zim sighed. "You're missing the point, Dib."

"So the earth was _never_ in danger? This entire time?"

Zim ran a hand over his face. "No, Dib, the earth _was_ in danger." He looked up, relishing the confused look on Dib's face. "Zim had simply decided to be merciful. Rather than conquering this _pathetic_ planet to get back in my leader's good graces, Zim will start anew."

Understanding was finally starting to hit Dib. "And you want _me," _he started, "to go _with_ you?"

Zim raised an antenna. "No, Zim doesn't _want_ you to come with me. Zim _needs_ you to come with me," he huffed, annoyed. "Didn't Zim _just_ finish explaining Universal Alliance laws in accordance with solo Irkens?"

"Why can't you just take Gir?" Dib asked. The little robot in question was mercifully nowhere to be found. "Wouldn't he count as a non-Irken alien?"

Zim pulled on his antennae in frustration. "Gir is _Irken_ technology, therefore doesn't _count_ as non irken." Dib could be so stupid sometimes. "Besides," Zim continued, "I plan to leave him on Earth, should I need to return."

Dib raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Yes, Dib," Zim rolled his eyes. "He does just fine on his own."

The gravity of what Zim was offering started sinking in for Dib. Space. Dib could go to _space_ and live in another part of the _galaxy_. "But what would we even do for money?" Dib asked. Surely there must be _some_ kink in Zim's plan. It was just too good to be true.

"Did you even listen to me?" Zim asked, utterly frustrated by Dib's thick headedness. "_Private Investigation_. There's a shortage of PI's, and since it's such a dangerous job, no one wants to do it, _but_ it pays well."

Dib leaned forward. "How dangerous are we talking here?" he asked.

Zim scoffed. "Nothing Zim can't handle, I assure you."

Dib couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had _dreamed_ of being a PI ever since he officially gave up on the paranormal. He even planned on taking paranormal cases under the table, but _this_ was the opportunity of a lifetime! Even if it was his arch enemy.

Dib grinned. "When do we leave?" he asked.

"Pack your bags, Dib," Zim replied, returning Dib's genuine smile. "We leave tomorrow."


	2. Case 1: The Missing Plookesians

_So, all the aliens and mob bosses and things are gonna come from other works. I can say in advance that a lot of them'll be nabbed from Doctor Who, or MS paint adventures. Maybe star trek, but i dont know enough about star trek to feel comfortable doing that. basically, if it's an alien race that's not from invader zim, it's probably from some other space opera, or cartoon. think of it as a little bonus if you're a fan of the referenced work. it'd be a bit too tedius to cite which individual alien came from where and which are background oc's and etc etc so i won't do that in the work itself._

_there's no planned over arching plot, so each case should be self-contained._

* * *

**The Missing Plookesians: Part 1**

The next day, Dib found himself standing eagerly on Zim's doorstep. _Wow_, he mused, _never thought I'd be happy to be here_. He clutched his small suitcase in his right hand, and knocked on the door with his left. He only had the essentials. His custom built laptop, a few extra clothes, and a bottle of hair gel. The important things.

Zim opened the door, and quickly pulled Dib inside. "Come, come, we have preparations to make."

They both went down to the base's labs, and Zim sat Dib down on a short stool in front of a work bench. Zim grabbed a microchip with a pair of tongs. "Lift up your hair, Dib," he ordered from behind the boy.

Dib turned to look up at Zim (one of the few times he's had to do so). "What?" he asked, his eyes displaying a mix of fear and concern.

"Oh, re_lax_," said Zim. "It's just a universal translation chip. Not everyone speaks English, numbnuts." Dib could hear the condescension dripping from Zim's voice.

"All right…" replied Dib hesitantly, as he carefully lifted the hair from the back of his neck. "Ow!" he exclaimed as he felt a sharp stab at the base of his skull.

"There," said Zim. "Was that so hard?"

It wasn't so bad, but Dib still glared at Zim. It was the principle of the thing.

Zim rolled his eyes. "_Now_ we can go."

And go they did.

_Two Months Later _

"_Zim!"_ Dib shouted, running into the Kitchen of their tiny rented apartment. _Their apartment in SPACE_.

Zim was busy making waffles. If there was one thing he missed about Earth, it was the waffles. And nothing else. He raised an antenna at the human who was grinning stupidly in the threshold. "What?" he asked sharply as he removed another waffle from the iron and set it on the plate.

"I _passed!_" Dib exclaimed, looking ready to burst from excitement.

"You passed!?" Zim set down his plate of waffles. "That's _great_ news!" Dib's enthusiasm was infectious.

Dib had just got back from the testing facility at the UA Department of Licensing, and after five weeks of hard studying he was now the proud owner of an official Private Investigation license. It was very exciting, because it meant that they could both quit their jobs at the Shooting Star Milk Shake Bar and officially open their own agency.

"I already called management at the bar," Dib said as he took a seat at their kitchen table. His chair was slightly shorter than Zim's, making them the same height when they were both seated at the table. Zim set down a plate of waffles in front of him, and sat down across from Dib with his own. "They said we just gotta show up for our last shift," Dib finished, after shoving a few bites of the breakfast pastry into his mouth.

"Excellent," said Zim. "Finally we will be able to get a respectable job. It took you long enough, Dib-worm." Zim playfully jibed. Zim had passed his licensing exam within their first week of arrival, but UA law stated that solo Irkens weren't allowed to have a job that their partner wasn't at for the first Galactic Standard Year, about 15 earth months.

"Well excuse me for not having a computer for a brain," Dib replied, jabbing his spork in Zim's direction.

"Yes, yes, we can't all be as great as Zim," the Irken lazily replied.

Dib just rolled his eyes and tried to keep from grinning. Coming into space, living among the stars, it was his _dream_. So was Private Investigation (paranormal or otherwise- Dib just liked uncovering truths). So to be a Private Investigator _in space?_ That was like winning the lottery. Twice.

"We'll have to talk with the landlady about renting the office space downstairs," Dib said. "Do you think we have enough for the deposit?"

Zim did some mental calculations. "Probably," he replied. "Unless she's changed her rates in the last two weeks."

The apartment Zim and Dib rented wasn't really an apartment so much as a loft above a ground floor office suite. When they first moved in, the landlady, Golix, said that she'd offer a discount if they rented both spaces at once, but they couldn't exactly afford that at the time. They had been renting a motel using money made by selling "rare earth artifacts" (which were actually nothing more than a few discarded cans of poop cola) until they found employment at the Shooting Star Milkshake Bar.

When she heard that Dib was planning on taking his PI licensing exam in a few weeks, she told them that the offer was still on the table. Golix was a kind old Argolin, who's green and blond hair had faded with age. Dib doubted that she had raised her prices since they last spoke, after all she had been trying to rent out this space for a while. Lofts with attached business spaces weren't as popular in this part of town.

Dib let out a yawn. The exam hadn't been hard, but it had been tedious. "Why don't you go off to bed," Zim suggested. "Zim will discuss renting the office space with Golix tonight."

Dib stood up and stretched, his back cracking in a satisfactory manner. "Alright," he said, as he trudged off to the bedroom. "You're the best, Zim."

"Yes, yes, Zim is amazing," Zim said dismissively. "Off to sleep with you."

Their little loft only had one bedroom (and therefore one bed) but it wasn't a problem. As an Irken, Zim rarely needed sleep, and when he did, Dib was usually awake so it wasn't a problem. If one of them wanted to sleep at the same time as the other, then they would crash on the futon in the living area rather than intrude on the private space.

It took another two weeks to get their business up and running. Golix was more than happy to rent them the office at the previously discussed discounted rate, and Zim took care of the permits they'd need to keep everything legal. All that was left to do now was wait for a case.

"I can't believe it, Zim," Dib said from behind the desk of their little office. Zim leaned against a wall in the corner, polishing a laser pistol. "This is really happening."

Zim cocked an antenna. "Was there ever any doubt, Dib-creature?"

Dib laughed. "No, I suppose not."

Zim pushed himself away from the wall, and holstered his laser pistol on his hip. "Zim is going to open up the front," he said, before exiting the office.

"Alright," Dib called after him.

The front room served as a little waiting room. The front door was a standard automatic door that required a retinal and DNA scan to lock and unlock. Though it didn't look like much, it could withstand an atomic blast when sealed. A similar door was on the left after entering, which lead to the stairs to Zim and Dib's apartment, and opened with a handprint scanner. It wasn't as obvious as the front door was, as Dib insisted on installing synthetic wood paneling to "_give it that film noir look_." Over the door itself they just used wall paper that blended in with the rest of the wall, so the door could still easily slide out of place.

The door to the office was vintage, but sturdy, at Dib's insistence_. "If we're doing this, we're doing this _right,"Dib had said. Zim wasn't really sure what Dib meant, but he didn't actually care what the office space looked like.

It was what appeared to be solid wood, and opened on a hinge like most Earth doors. There was a glass window, with the words "Zim and Dib: Private Detectives" printed on it in bold font. At Zim's insistence the door was also blast proof, and still required a retinal scan for locking and unlocking.

The waiting room itself was sparsely furnished, and the lighting circuits were set to a dim yellow-orange. Two synth-wood chairs sat against the wall opposite the door to the boys' apartment, and a desk was to the left of the office door. On it sat Zim's tablet, a business phone which also controlled the security system, a name plaque which housed business cards, and a stack of papers whose only apparent purpose was to sit there and look pretty. "_It adds atmosphere!"_ Dib had said. Zim just thought it was stupid.

After unlocking the front door and changing the digital display outside to "Open," Zim plopped down at his desk. The chair was comfortable enough, high back and raised to make him feel taller. Dib always made sure to get Zim chairs that sat higher off the ground, without even asking for Zim's input on the matter. In a way, Zim was grateful. It meant the human always saw him as an equal.

Zim hadn't been at his desk for more than two minutes when there was a hesitant knock at the door. He rolled his eyes, and pressed a button on the phone's cradle to activate the loud speaker outside. "Come in," he barked.

The door slid open with a soft whoosh before closing just as quietly. A willowy dark haired man entered the office. He was human in appearance, which wasn't that surprising in this part of the galaxy- convergent evolution wasn't exactly an uncommon phenomenon.

He appeared slightly unnerved by the atmosphere of the place, but Zim didn't really care. If Dib scared off customers with his weird decorating tastes then so be it. "Can I help you?" he asked, one antenna skeptically raised.

"Uhh, yes, actually," the man stammered. He had a mop of messy black hair and wore a rumbled button down shirt and black tie. His sleeves were rolled up. "Is this a private investigation company?"

Zim rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, propping his boots up on the desk with a heavy clunk. "You can read, can't you?" It was displayed on the door in bright neon lights, after all. Zim was given free rein to design the front door's digital display, so he made it as garish as possible, perfectly emulating the Irken aesthetic.

"Well, yes," the man said nervously. "I just wanted to make sure…" he seemed to trail off, looking around the office. "I take it you're Zim?"

Zim sighed in exasperation, and removed his feet from the desk to lean forward, resting his elbows on the shiny synth-wood surface. "How very observant, would you like a prize?"

The man opened his mouth to respond, but Zim cut him off. "Look, just sit down," he gestured to the chairs against the wall. "Dib'll be right with you." They agreed when they decided to start the agency that Dib would handle talking to clients, while Zim would act as security during their investigations.

He pressed another button on the phone and shouted, "Dib!" Zim heard Dib's chair fall over in the other room and snickered to himself, meanwhile the man in the waiting room nervously fidgeted with his hands. "He's ready for you," Zim said without waiting for a response from Dib.

The man stood up and gingerly opened the door. He was greeted by the sight of a young boy, no older than 19, scrambling back into the chair behind his desk.

"Zim, what have I told you about…" he trailed off after noticing that the person entering his office was _not_ Zim. "Oh," he said, setting himself in his chair. "A client?"

The dark haired man nodded. "Take a seat," Dib said, gesturing to the chairs in front of the desk. He pulled out a tablet and pen, preparing to take notes. "So, what's the problem?"

The man gaped for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. After what seemed like an eternity, he found his words. "Membrane?" he muttered.

"I'm sorry?" Dib raised an eyebrow behind his glasses. "I didn't quite catch that."

"Dib Membrane," repeated the man.

"I'm sorry, do I _know_ you?" he asked. What were the odds that someone from his home on earth had made it all the way out here? About .0001%. Earth wasn't anywhere near technologically advanced enough for space travel, and the only person Dib would expect to achieve it would be his sister. But this man definitely was _not_ Gaz, as far as he could tell.

The man laughed quietly. "I don't expect you would. You were only eleven," he said.

_Wait…_ "Mr. Dwicky?" Dib barely remembered the councilor from all those years ago. "You stole my camera," he said, only slightly teasing.

Mr. Dwicky rubbed his arm. "Sorry about that," he said.

Dib waved him off, "Forget it, I'm over it." He leaned back in his chair, relaxing slightly. Of all the people, and all the places, their first client was from earth. There was probably some irony to be found there. "Anyway, what can we do for you?"

Dwicky took a deep breath_. "_It's_… _The plookesians_…" _he began. Dib listened intently as he relayed his story_. _

"I… I haven't seen them in a while, you know? I'd go to the cops, but we're kind of involved in a…" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "dubiously legal weapons trade. We've been living out of our ship; it's parked on a small asteroid not far from here.

"Mooshy and Spoopty, they… They were gonna go out to do a trade, with some big wig mobster. MK, I think it was. I didn't really get involved in it, I was mostly just along for the ride, and… other… things."

Dwicky sighed. "Dib, how much do you know about plookesian romance?" he asked.

Dib paused in his note taking. "How is that relevant?"

"So… nothing," Dwicky surmised. "Alright, moving on…

"Plookesians… They don't form couples like humans do. They form…" he waved a hand in the air, trying to find the right word. "Triples. They're polyamorous, as a rule. And Mooshy and Spoopty, there was just something… special about them. It's no surprise we clicked the way we did.

"I just, I never wanted to see them get hurt, you know? We… we had a fight." Dwicky wiped a tear from his eye before it could fall.

"You gotta understand, I've heard this MK guy's bad news, and I don't know what I'd do if I lost them…" he choked back a sob.

"Don't worry, Mr. Dwicky," Dib said. "We'll take your case, and we'll bring back Mooshy and Spoopty safe and sound."

Dwicky did his best to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks Dib."

"No problem," Dib said. "Now tell me, what kind of budget do you have for this operation?" he asked. "I'm sorry if that seems too forward, but we should talk prices before I have Zim draw up a contract."

Dwicky took a deep breath to calm himself down. "No problem, Dib, I understand," he replied. "I'd like to keep it under 4,000 credits, but I'd do anything to get them home safe…" he trailed off.

Dib nodded. "Ok, well, we require an initial deposit of around 600 credits for missing persons cases," he punched some numbers into a calculator on his tablet, "And we charge about 20 credits per standard hour, so worst case scenario it takes us about seven days, or I guess, 168 hours to find your plookesians, then you should come in just under 4k credits." He looked up from his calculations. "Does that sound fair?" he asked honestly. This was their first case, after all- Dib didn't want to be overcharging, but he and Zim _had_ looked up the standard rates for these kinds of things before they officially opened.

Dwicky nodded. "Sounds like a deal," he said.

"Great, I'll have Zim draw up the papers," Dib replied. He punched in a few bits of data on his tablet before electronically forwarding the case file and agreed payment options over to Zim. He snickered when he heard angry Irken cursing from the other room, a good indication that Zim had received the files- Dib learned early on that Zim hated data entry, but Zim hated dealing with people _more_ so he simply chose the lesser of two evils.

"Sooo," Dwicky said awkwardly, resting his hands on his knees. "How're you liking the UA?" He figured he may as well make small talk, he was going to be here until Zim was done finalizing the contracts.

"It's nice enough," replied Dib. "Certainly beats Earth."

Dwicky grinned. "Nothing quite like it, is there?"

"Nope."

"You know, when I first walked in here, I thought I somehow ended up back there for a moment."

"You like the décor?" Dib asked.

Dwicky hummed. "It's very nostalgic, I suppose."

They fell into a silence after that, and several minutes ticked by before Dwicky spoke up again. "So, are you and Zim…?"

"What?" Dib scrunched up his face in an expression between disgust and confusion. "No, Zim and I are just partners."

Dwicky raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

"_Business_ partners," Dib amended.

"If you say so…" Before Dwicky could go on, the speaker from Dib's desk went off.

"There! The work is done!" said Zim's voice. Dib's tablet pinged to indicate he received the updated file. "Get the earth monkey to sign the contract so Zim can go back to ignoring your worthless existence!"

Dib rolled his eyes and opened the file with a wry smile. "Just business partners, huh?" Dwicky muttered under his breath.

Dib slid the tablet across the desk and Dwicky signed at the bottom of the contract, before pulling out a thin metal rod from his pants pocket and handing it to Dib.

The UA Credit tube worked a lot like a debit card would on earth. Swipe it through a scanner and the funds are transferred. There was no physical currency in the UA, but precious metals were still considered valid tender in flea markets and dubiously legal trades.

Dib stuck the tube in the credit reader on his desk, and waited a moment for the tube to be spat back out before passing it back to Dwicky.

"Alright," said Dib. "Looks like we're all set."

Dwicky looked relieved. "Thanks, Dib. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"You can thank me when we get your plookesians back."

And with that, Dwicky left the office, and Zim and Dib's first real case began.

* * *

_the UA credit is loosely based on the value of the Euro. The rates Z&D charged are also loosely based on the rates of actual PI's. I say loosely, because, y'know, space economy. Did I mention this fic takes place in space? It is in space. _


End file.
